


Cold Hands

by redeem147



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-29
Updated: 2011-07-29
Packaged: 2017-10-21 22:17:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redeem147/pseuds/redeem147
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it's better to be alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Hands

She tossed and turned, trying to sleep. Images of him flashed through her mind. His beautiful face. His lean, muscled body. His hands. She felt his touch like a phantom; an elusive memory of exquisite feeling. No, she wouldn't be sleeping tonight. Maybe she'd never sleep well again.

 

She got out of bed and left her room, carefully feeling her way down the hall. Turning on the light would only disturb the other occupants of the house. She felt along the corridor towards the stairs, carefully reaching for each step with her toes in the dark.

 

Once in the kitchen, she flipped on the light switch. She took a glass from the cupboard and opened the fridge, reaching for the water pitcher. The cold water refreshed her, splashing down her chin and onto her chest as she drank too quickly. She opened the door and placed the pitcher back on the top shelf. She paused without closing it. Opening the freezer door, she plunged her hands inside and held them, letting the cold air penetrate her skin. She held them there until they started to ache, shut the door, and ran up the stairs to her room. She shut her door behind her.

 

She pulled her nightgown over her head and lay back down on her bed. She cupped her breasts with her hands. So cold. Even colder than his. She teased her nipples with her thumbs and pictured his face.

 

Slowly, deliberately, she smoothed her right hand down her flat abdomen, still holding her breast with her left. As she reached her hairline, she gasped at the feeling of her cold flesh on her warm body. She reached lower still, and pressed her cold index finger into the folds. She was wet, warm and wet. Her finger made her shiver. More the temperature of his fingers, now. She pushed them inside, fire and ice, and saw his face the first time he entered her. The look of awe. The look of love. She stroked herself, increasing the tempo, until she exploded in trembling electric convulsions. She lay, the euphoric dreaminess washing over her, and whispered his name.

 

But there was no one to answer, no one to reach for. She longed for his memory again. She reached her hands to cup her breasts, but they were warm now. Her hands.

 

She rolled over on her side and tried to get back to sleep.


End file.
